


Lessions In Etiquette

by subtropicalStenella



Series: Bar Fight [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, I've decided this his how Bly gets that scar in his eyebrow, Seriously Bly pulls no punches, Trash Talk, Trick is a pretty decent storyteller, Verbal or physical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: Aftermath of "Bar Fight" by StarOfWinter. Bly takes issue with the way Jaing handled things.





	Lessions In Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starofwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bar Fight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586540) by [Starofwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter). 



So I'm sitting there with Catch and Razor, right? We got drinks, Firith’s in Razor’s lap, stole his cover, got us drinks, we're all having a good time.

Or  _ trying  _ to, because that big Black Ops fucker that took a piece out of Anomaly a couple weeks ago is back, taking up half the bar and glaring daggers at fuckdamn everyone so it's a  _ little tense,  _ y’know.

So we're sitting there minding our own business and out of fuckin  _ nowhere _ someone yells, top of his fuckin lungs,

 

“Hey  _ Null! _ ”

 

Room goes  _ dead  _ quiet, so you hear the guy _growl_ real quiet and silky like,

 

“Got a bone to pick with you.”

 

Big Fucker doesn't move, just knocks his drink back and drawls, real lazy

 

“Whatever you're thinking of trying,  _ Standard,  _ don't.Gonna get you a world of hurt.” 

 

“It’s _ Commander,  _ actually,” first guy says.

 

Big Fucker turns and I  _ swear to you _ , the whole crowd parts like somebody's General fucking pushed em, and we get a look at the first guy.

It's  _ Bly _ . All kitted out, spit polished shine on his armor, kama and pauldron brushed clean. Got his fucking  _ medals  _ on, standing at Ease, hands behind his back like he's fuckin CC Glory off a fuckin propaganda poster. Pride Of The GAR and loaded for fucking  _ rancor. _

Bly sees Big Fucker looking at him now, and gets that little smile he does--y’know, the  _ you done fucked up _ smirk that's mostly eyebrows, that one--and says

 

“Yeah, I'm what you could have been if your dear old  _ dad  _ took the time to teach you some  _ manners,  _ instead of letting you run wild like an animal.”

 

Big Fucker stands up, and Bly starts walking towards him, saying,

 

“That’s how it is with Commandos, right? Should have gotten culled as cadets, when your socialization scores tanked, but instead they threw you at Black Ops and hoped a bunch of washed out barbarians could keep you on a leash.” 

 

It's a long walk, clear across the bar, but Bly's taking his time anyway, stripping out of his kit as he goes, handing his armor off to the crowd, still talking smack, even when he takes a knee to get his greaves off. 

 

“Looks like somebody failed at  _ that  _ too.” 

 

Big Fucker is in civvies, but Bly takes the top of his blacks off anyway,  _ no  _ protection, like he doesn't fucking want or need it to take on a fucking  _ Commando _ . Which, by the way, that rumor that CCs and RCs came out of the same batches? I fuckin  _ buy it  _ now because Bly's looking this monster right in the fuckin eye. 

 

“My boys cleaned up your mess, so I'm just here to take out the trash.” 

 

Big Fucker  _ still _ doesn't move, just  _ snarls _ like a fuckin dog, fuckin psycho had his teeth filed into points, and now it's kinda making sense how that little mutie pilot got all tore up. 

 

“What's the matter,  _ Null,  _ scared to take a clone your own size, or waiting to see if your precious  _ buir  _ is gonna come save you from this, too?”

 

That does the trick, and Big Fucker fucking  _ lunges _ , goes right for a headbutt like a damn  _ chump _ , and obviously Bly dodges, right? Half a step back, nothing fancy, lets Big Fucker get in close and just pops a knee right up into his fuckin crotch. Fucker curls up, looks a little stunned besides, like he didn't expect a rank’n’file to fight dirty, but it doesn't last long and Bly goes down hard on his back, Big Fucker wrapped around his chest. Tackled him so hard they  _ skid  _ a good meter and change. You could hear Bly's skin  _ squeak  _ on the durasteel. Lucky it wasn't 'crete, would have tore him right the fuck up.

 

Anyway Bly’s down, holding Big Fucker’s stupid nexu-maw face off his guts with one hand on his forehead or something, couldn't really see once everyone started crowding around, heard a couple punches land on something meaty but I had to push through to see anything.

_ Perfect _ timing. Got to see Bly yank Fucker's head back by his stupid longass curls and just fucking  _ haul off,  _ punches him right in the ear, full force, stuns him, knocks him sideways. So Bly’s on top, right? Kneeling on Fucker’s chest, got one of his arms pinned and just  _ goes to fucking town _ , punching the absolute hell out of his face, still hanging onto Fucker’s hair. Bly's fist is coming up bloody, think he tore the fuck out of his knuckles on Fucker's stupid teeth but clearly doesn't have a damn left to give, checked them all at the door with his deece and his fucks.

Of course Fucker has to get smart, and get  _ mean _ . See, Bly’s teaching a lesson, going for the hits that will  _ show _ , so Fuckface will see his mistake in every fuckdamn mirror for a longass time, maybe permanently if he can break the guy's nose or cheekbone or something, right?

But this asshole is going for pain, wants to make it  _ hurt _ , and slams his elbow down on the big nerve cluster on top of Bly's thigh, Bly shifts to get up or out of the way or something, gets thrown off instead. So now Fuckface is up, grabs Bly, hauls him up too and gets him in a headlock. Bly’s fucked, Fuckface gets a couple sucker-punches in, one-two-three, quick and dirty before Bly can brace up and get his feet set.

Once he _does_ though, he gets his shoulder into Fuckface’s gut, grabs onto his hips and _shoves,_ deadleg, busted ribs and all, and slams Fuckface backwards onto the bartop, just, _wham,_ edge of the counter right to the kidneys, and starts laying into his face again.

Then some idiot makes the mistake of fucking _cheering_ since it looks like Bly’s winning and you don't _do_ that in this kind of fight, dumbass. Bad luck. Sure enough, Fuckface gets clever again and grabs a fuckin bottle out from under the counter, smashes it into Bly’s face.

So Bly’s bleeding, half blinded with a faceful of hard liquor, right? Does the smart thing, gets his arms up in front of his face, and sets his feet because he's got a pissed off Null with something like fifteen kilos of muscle and murder on him coming to fuck him up, right? Right.

And then--and  _ then,  _ Fuckface charges again and Bly,  _ Bly _ fucking pivots and spin-kicks him  _ in the fucking face.  _ Right in the fuckin  _ jaw _ . I dunno if it was luck or on purpose, maybe he was going for a body-blow and Fuckface happened to get low at  _ just  _ the right time but who  _ gives a shit _ , right? It was fucking insane.

And apparently even headcases like Nulls have a limit to how much head trauma they can take, because Fuckface just fucking  _ drops _ , hits the deck like a bag of sand and  _ stays  _ there.

_ It gets better.  _ Bly picks up the fucking bottle right, big nasty shard left on the bottleneck, kicks Fuckface over onto his back, sits on his chest and grabs his hair again. Jackass probably can't even  _ see  _ Bly, face is starting to swell up that bad, but he can definitely feel the knife-edge on his neck when Bly’s like,

 

“You keep your filthy hands and your fucked up teeth away from my  _ fucking _ pilots.”

Sounds like pure fucking murder, fucking ridiculous.

“I don't care if he asked for it, you don't break your toys and let them bleed out in the fucking  _ shitter _ , understand?”

 

And like, I dunno about you but I didn't know it had been that bad, y’know? And Fuckface is too slow or too out of it to answer, so Bly smacks his head into the floor to wake him up, gets a 

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

like he wanted, and then he just stands up. Takes the top of his blacks from a waitress, thanks her kindly, asks if she can round up his kit and  _ walks off like nothing happened.  _ Still bleeding from his face and both hands, mind you.

  
So. Yeah. CCs are fuckin scary when they get protective.


End file.
